


Running Blind

by mwingzero



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Experimental, Gen, Other, not-quite-time-travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwingzero/pseuds/mwingzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sephiroth was warned before events made Genesis leave? What if he was given a chance to avoid his purpose and choose a different path? What if it happened differently?  An exercise of what ifs stuck inside a blender and mixed up with time travel, Crisis Core and going beyond what you thought you were made for to become who are meant to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer: This is an exercise of fiction set in the Final Fantasy VII world created by Square-Enix, using character also created by them with no intention for selling or creating a profit. I am just a fan with an idea in mind that I just so happen want to share it with other people._
> 
> Now that's out of the way, this story is not written completely in one style or another. I'm experimenting with the different types of ways to tell a story and yes, some places are meant to be very vague or only wrote in an extreme limited view. This also has been published on ffnet and is currently incomplete.

"Well?"

"Why should I believe you?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Maybe. . . I don't feel like telling you."

"Then we're at an impasse."

"But you'll die if you don't go back."

"Would that be so terrible? After all, you've just got done explaining to me what will happen."

"Oh, don't you start! You need to stop it from happening at all!"

"Oh?"

"YES!"

"I suppose you will keep hounding me about it until I do so."

"That's right."

"Hm, I cannot understand your logic. If I die, this future would never happen, correct?"

"If you die now, the future would become worse."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Do you really think he would stop if his prize dies?"

". . ."

"Do you?"

"You're not as sweet as you pretend to be."

Only if you don't behave for me!"

". . . Fine."

"That's great! Now, just look down. . ."

"And what am I suppose to look down at?"

"Oh nothing~"

"Wha-?"

"Have a nice trip!"

\-------

The sharp jolt woke him up. Thin artificial light snaked under his eyelids, the scent of disinfectants, old blood, and fear reached his nose, and for some reason the left side of his head felt as if he had lost that part of his skull. Fingers and toes still jerking, he cracked open an eye and saw the not-so-reassuring glimpse of an IV bag hanging over his head. The air in his lungs whooshed out and he coughed, trying to still the aftershocks in his limbs. He didn't have time to think about what had just happen, not as alarms blared and the room sprouted several people in white coats. Someone jabbed a needle into the IV bag and the lights and noise faded into the background, though he thought he heard a laugh - a happy, teasing girl laugh next to his ear right before he passed out.

Waking up for a second time was like clawing through layers of candy floss. He cracked his eyes open, felt the lids drag down and cracked them open again hours later. It went on for a few days or maybe a few years until he was conscious again. The ceiling looked the same, though half the lights were out, and the IV bag was replaced with another machine, readings flickering across the screen in a manner that left him feeling sea-sick. He blinked, eyelids like sand paper, and heard something beep. The air stirred and another scent filled the room, this one oily and spiced and rotten. He turned his head.

"Well, boy?"

His eyes narrowed as a name drifted into his memory and slipped past his lips. "Hojo."

The name also stirred the mess of his mind together as well, images lining up in their proper order, gleaming like they were ready for inspection. Ignoring his throbbing head and the sudden appearance of a penlight shining in one eye, Sephiroth scowled at the taste in his mouth and the barely there rasp his voice had become. After minutes of torment with the penlight, Hojo tsked lightly and pulled out a throat-coating lollipop and handed it over to him.

"Can you tell me why you decided on catching three feet of metal with your skull?" the scientist asked as he took out a notepad and pen from his lab coat.

Sephiroth scowled, accepted the lollipop and shoved it in his mouth. That memory came to him as the candy clicked against sharp teeth, and he decided to shrug instead of actually answer. Not that he felt like answering with his throat feeling like he just tried eating metal shavings and drink battery acid. He wondered if he had a tube shoved down his throat. It wouldn't have been the first time, but he really disliked the after effects.

Out came a scope and Hojo fitted an ear piece to it, grabbed one ear and looked into the scope. He repeated the process on the other side and scribbled a few notes in his notepad. Sephiroth amused himself in trying to decipher what Hojo was trying to write, the candy crunching between his teeth. The scientist looked up at the sound, frowned and took out another lollipop.

"You are supposed to suck them," he said, shoving the green lollipop at Sephiroth.

"'M hungry," Sephiroth replied, already switching the used stick with the fresh treat. Hojo sighed and wrote a few more things into his notepad before shutting it closed.

"I'll have them bring you something to eat-" he held up a finger before Sephiroth could list what he wanted "-liquid until your stomach can handle it. And don't charm the staff for anything else."

"Spoilsport," he muttered around the lollipop.

Hojo sighed, leaning close to Sephiroth. "You were unconscious for three weeks, boy. A normal man would have been dead, so try for a little bit of patience this time, hm?"

Frowning, Sephiroth muttered around his lollipop, the words lost, but having studied the General for so long, Hojo obviously got the gist of it. He sighed, straightened and shook his head. "I can still revoke your clearance, so don't be a fool."

Sephiroth grimaced. Nodding, the doctor turned around and went out the door, Sephiroth glaring at the stooped shoulders and tail of dark hair until the doctor was out of sight. Then flopping back against the hard hospital mattress, he gnawed at the lollipop while trying to figure out what had happen. His memories presented themselves in the landscape behind his eyelids, but nowhere in that collection did he see himself getting hit with a bunch of metal. Genesis had been the injured one and wait, did Hojo say three weeks?

Opening his eyes, Sephiroth struggled to his elbows, the candy crunching under his teeth. Three weeks. Genesis would have been gone by now, and Angeal would have sent his puppy to take care of things with that Turk, and that girl with the ancient green eyes was wrong, completely wrong that he could stop this, stop _everything_ and he was attached to the machine via a tube screwed into his skull and he needed to stop this. . .

"Are you that much in a hurry to drink this?"

Sephiroth turned his head. Genesis stood in the doorway holding a tray, his eyebrows raised in what Sephiroth felt was in his most condescending manner. Gnawing on the dogend of his lollipop stick, Sephiroth looked for any sign of decay on the redhead. His narrow-eyed glare stopped the First in his tracks before he pursed his lips and snickered.

"Are you sore, Sephiroth? Did you expect the blade to bow to your glory?"

He looked away, snorting in contempt. He heard the squeak of the bedside table as it was put in position next to him and heard the clack of steel against steel as the tray was set down. The thin smell of a chicken boiled to the point of resembling water assaulted his nose. A plastic spork smacked him in the arm and fell down to poke him in his thigh.

"So you are. The Hero, brought down by a simple piece of metal."

He turned, grabbed Genesis by the collar and yanked him over the table, spilling soup and crackers everywhere. Sephiroth saw Mako-bright eyes widen, cruel lips parting, the smug features turning white. He pulled Genesis closer still, close enough to see the pulse throbbing in his neck and hear his strangled gasp. Then leaning as close as the tubing allowed, Sephiroth pressed his nose against Genesis' neck and inhaled.

Later, as Hojo reattached tubes and wires while muttering under his breath about the childishness of Hollander's creations, Sephiroth pressed an ice pack against his face and wondered if he was going insane. It would certainly explain why he felt like some girl was shaking her finger at him telling him to stop being such a ninny. It would also explain why Genesis smelt only of leather and apples instead of the rotting death he remembered.

And in the very edge of hearing, he thought he heard a woman calling him silly.

\------

In his opinion, dreams should not involve flowers or blinding white light. They certainly should not involve a pretty girl in pink with eyes as green as a pool of natural Mako and just as deep tapping her foot at him in the manner most felt was impatience. For a moment, he was certain that those eyes were not eyes at all, but the whole of the Lifestream, but then the eyes were just that, and he shook his head to will away that disturbing image.

"I really don't like doing this," she said, looking frail, tiny and as about as threatening as a wet noodle. "But you really need to start paying attention."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sephiroth tried sounding like his militant self, but the effect was ruined by standing in a field of flowers wearing only a pair of boxers. They were black, but certainly not as intimidating as his usual black leather uniform. He wasn't sure why he was standing in just his boxers, but he had a feeling that whatever Hojo dosed him with this time was at the bottom of it.

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and despite never having a mother Sephiroth felt like he was three years old waiting for a scolding. "The events that you remember haven't happened yet," she said. "Remember? I told you that you were being sent back during the moment the two of you fought?"

". . .Maybe?"

"Well, you were. And in that time and place, you took the blow that would have injured him."

"How generous of me."

She smacked him in the arm and Sephiroth held back a wince. He actually felt that, surprisingly enough. He jerked his head back to prevent getting a finger up his nose.

"Now see here, this is for your benefit as well as his so you better start treating this as. . . as. . . "

"A serious thing?"

"Yes! Well, more than that, got it?"

Sephiroth relaxed slightly enough to pat her on the shoulder. "I'll try. This is not easy for me."

"If it was, you wouldn't have been chosen."

Blinking at that odd statement, Sephiroth opened his mouth and. . . He woke up. For a moment, he expected needles, or Hojo trying to get a bone marrow sample, or even an attack. Instead he was laying on an uncomfortable hospital bed, listening to the distant squeak of a wheel that needed oiling. He gave the ceiling a glare and then moved his arms cautiously, searching over his scalp and bare skin any signs of tubing or wires. Instead, his skin felt far too tight and his senses far too sensitive.

Mako transfusion, a part of his mind informed him. Sephiroth sighed and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and looking down at what he could see with all that hair in his way. Idly he wondered why Hojo hadn't chopped his hair short even as he caught the odor of the scientist's cologne.

"How do you feel?"

"Bored."

The dreaded penlight was whipped out and Sephiroth sat through another round of getting blinded by the thing. The penlight was followed by a tonsil examination, his ears getting poked at, and nearly a pint of blood being drawn from various parts of his body. But when Hojo started talking about getting a bone sample, Sephiroth tossed the scratchy blanket over the doctor's head and headed for the way out. He didn't care that he was wearing only his boxers and that one of the aides was most likely in the Silver Elite fan club and was currently making notes. He wasn't going to stay there for another minute.

"Boy!"

He ignored Hojo's voice and rapped his knuckles against the reinforced doors leading out. He didn't have the code, but Sephiroth was quite sure he could rip the door down. It felt like it was only reinforced against military-grade C4 and tank artillery. He made a fist and drew his arm back.

"Sephiroth!"

Looking over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow. Hojo hadn't used his full name since he was four and had just learnt that no matter how scared he was of the dark, he would never ever wet the bed. "What?"

"Knock down that door and you will be taken completely off-duty," the scientist said, adjusting his glasses.

Sephiroth frowned. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would," Hojo replied, clasping his hands behind his back. "As it is, you are expected to relax for the next week." He shook his head slowly. "I have no doubt you are at your normal capabilities, but the Director said it is standard. . . as if you are like any other SOLDIER. . . a perfect specimen and they. . ."

"They are putting me on light duty?" Sephiroth said scowling as Hojo started his usual ramblings.

"Only a technicality," Hojo said, waving a hand in the air. He peered at Sephiroth over the edge of his glasses and poked a bony finger at his back. "Why aren't you dressed, boy? Get some clothes on before you leave."

Sephiroth blinked. He looked down at himself. He thought for a moment about how outside the lab there were cameras everywhere. He heaved a sigh and turned on his heel, and followed Hojo into a locker room. His clothes were missing - presumably washed and sent to his residence so he was forced to wear one of the flimsy scrubs usually left in the locker room for those days when specimens were examined. Thus clad, he went to chew out the Director.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planet is alive and it sees things differently. Change is easy, but nothing is without a price. History will always find a new way to return to the way it suppose to go.

Time wasn't a part of the planet. She found that out early on, her mind filled with the feel of the oceans, the wind, the snow, and the sun. Time moved beyond what was needed, leaving behind its traces in the seasons. Stone remembered places feelings sensations, wood traced the fall of water and waffling heat, and animals remembered little, falling and returning and flowing back and forth like pebbles on the surface.

She stood in Gaia's Lifestream, marveling at how something normal to her was reduced to nothingness. A blink covered years, a breath covered centuries, yet she can still see the minutes and the seconds, and it was all there in one continuous line. A human mind wasn't meant to understand Gaia's sight, but she wasn't entirely human. The Cetra already in the Lifestream also helped her, and as the moments-seasons-thoughts moved on, she grew to understand how to direct, how to push, and how to hint. She could talk to her friends in ways that she never thought of before, she could see their scars and how they healed, and she could even manipulate the Lifestream in subtle ways.

The only problem was him. Silvered death and blacken heart, he learnt as she learnt, and as she pushed, he shoved. He resisted the break-up of his will, he refused to listen to reason and he rather let the whole world burn than admit that he was wrong. She grew tired of their mental battles and he managed to find ways around her guard, nibbling away at the precious little defenses left from the Meteor Fall. It took her a lot of power to find a way to heal those scars, and she probably wouldn't have been able to if he wasn't so fixated on destroying Cloud.

Out-maneuvered by a girl, he sulked in his corner of the Lifestream, swatting away any attempts at communication. She almost wished she had a body to cry with, and instead sent the healing rains across the lands, watching her flowers spread. If she could find his humanity, if she could figure out what changed him, if she could understand why he commanded such loyalty among the other SOLDIERs, maybe she could reach him and finally heal him.

Time had no meaning for the planet. Those that died and lived on inside the Lifestream sometimes also showed her the answers she sought. She was surrounded by people that had at one time called him friend. She saw the spirits of those that tried showing him something more than hatred. She spoke with Zack her guard, her companion, her other eyes in the lives of their friends. He found another soul and then they told her of the three. Angeal. Genesis. Sephiroth. One failed his honor and was lost. One hating and became twisted. And one believed the lies and attempted godhood.

It started there. At that place. Fighting, trading blows, one challenging the other to become a hero. Blows rang, words cut, and there, just there, as blades twisted, clashed and broke, the end started. Without time, Gaia showed it happening at a pace even a snail could see. She waited, watched and saw.

A.

New.

Angle.

She pushed and the broken sword drove itself deep into Sephiroth's head.

\-------

On second thought, he should have cleaned up before going to see Director Lazard. He only realized that when he finished his request. It was then that he acknowledged that the Director had a couple visitors in the form of a Turk and a chubby man in a bright casual shirt that looked vaguely familiar. The three men looked at Sephiroth, the chubby man trying to mask his laughter as coughs while the Turk arched an eyebrow and looked away.

"I understand your concerns," Lazard said, smoothly ignoring the laughing man. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, knowing what Lazard was going to say and mentally preparing his counter-attack. "But it is company policy to place those still recovering from sever trauma on light duty."

"The conflict in Wutia " he started but was cut off by Lazard's raised hand.

"Will be finished within a month. Your presence will only be needed once the treaty is drawn and we present it to their government."

Sephiroth gritted his teeth. "The SOLDIER trainees "

"We have several new SOLDIERs that can handle taking on a few cadets and showing them the basics. I feel it unnecessary to scare them by your presence until after they're use to the program."

For every objection he had, Lazard already had a counter-attack prepared. It felt like he expected Sephiroth's protests and knew exactly what would keep him from returning to full duty. Sephiroth fished through his least favorite tasks and dredged one up to try.

"Mako reactor inspections still need SOLDIER teams to clear out the monsters."

Lazard looked at him, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Silently Sephiroth wondered where the boy had gotten his looks - his father often reminded him of a sweating pile of grease while his mother was more plastic than flesh. Both the Turk and the chubby man were also looking at him, and he refrained from doing anything outside of crossing his arms over his chest and looked down at the Director.

"You hate that task." Lazard frowned, leaning forward and folding his hands together. "You often decline that duty or rope a younger SOLDIER to tag along and do a majority of the sweeping. Does the idea of having time off bother you that much?"

He shifted, letting his bangs cover his face. The problem was not the time off, but the relaxing. Sephiroth never had such large, undisturbed chunk of time off since he was four. Even in the lab he had kept busy, kept on learning something new or doing something different, training his mind and body to withstand symptoms of fatigue. Even after meeting Angeal and Genesis and being introduced to the concept 'off-duty', he still turned it into a part of his training or his tasks. Laying on a beach somewhere held no power of attraction to him.

Besides, he burnt far too easily.

"Forgive me for interrupting," the Turk said smoothly. Sephiroth looked at the man, noting the fine Wutian features and well-kept uniform. He was young, and despite the black clan-mark on his forehead, had to be loyal to the Turks. "I may have a small task he could accomplish without going off of light duty."

Lazard inclined his head and the Turk leaned forward, speaking so soft that Sephiroth caught only a few words before his attention was diverted by the chubby man. Sephiroth glared - a look that had cowered countless warriors and probably would have worked better if he was wearing his normal uniform instead of disposable scrubs and slippers. The chubby man laughed harder, not even bothering to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Forgive me," he wheezed, waving a hand in the same vague direction of the labs. "Your chief scientist enjoys explaining how nothing can stop you for me to take any of this seriously."

Now the name clicked into place: Hollander, Angeal's and Genesis' doctor. Sephiroth had only met him twice; the first time when the three elites were first introduced to each other, and the second when the three came back from a six month long winter mission that left the three teenagers frost-bitten, undernourished and highly aggressive. To Sephiroth, Hollander seemed kinder but messier then Hojo and he kept his distance from scientist and his strange fetish for logo-encrusted clothing.

"I find that highly unlikely," Sephiroth said, turning away and trying to listen in on whatever the Turk was telling Lazard. Hollander did not take the hint and instead edged even closer to him.

"Although I must say that the work is excellent. I can only see a slight scarring over your left eye and. . . Tell me, is there any vision loss?"

"No."

"Any hearing loss or headaches?"

Sephiroth almost expected Hollander to whip out a penlight and look for himself. "No and the only headache I have is from receiving the same questions from various scientists in this building."

"Interesting. . . so no major discomfort and the mild discomfort is from outside stimuli. . . maybe he did find the right combination. . ."

He mentally rolled his eyes. Scientists. So willing to take him apart and not willing enough to explain why. If he ever had the chance, Sephiroth would send all of them into the deep waters for sharks to tear apart. After he painted them with pig fat and blood.

"Do you know-?"

"Hm, that does sound promising," Lazard said loudly to the Turk and turned to Sephiroth. He decided to ignore the rest of whatever Hollander was saying. If the scientist was that curious, he could just ask Hojo, not that he expected Hojo to explain anything to his rival.

"Tseng of the Turks came here to request for SOLDIER muscle during a search and seize exercise. I was going to send with him one of our more experienced members but since the mission has a low chance of facing heavy odds, he feels that the mission can be used for training and promotion for a promising Second and you could go along as an observer to rate the Second's skills and progress."

Next to Sephiroth, Hollander swallowed hard. Sephiroth glanced at him, noticing that the scientist looked pale. What was with this mission that would cause such a reaction in the scientist? Sephiroth bit back a comment, and thought over the offer. It would not be on a beach, there might be a possibility of danger, and he could walk around without expecting to interact nicely with the public. All bonuses in his book. The only downsides were that they expected him to sit back and let an inexperienced fighter do the heavy work and writing out a report.

If they wanted a report, they would get one. In handwriting - which was one of his few less-than-perfect qualities. It was so bad that even Hojo had commented on it and Hojo's scrawl looked like something a drunken chicken managed to scratch out with its beak. ShinRa had given him a small laptop just for him to write up reports on, and it had survived sea water, a Bolt3, being dropped from a helicopter over the Northern Crater, and even a week inside Mako Reactor 5's cast-off mako pool. It now glowed and had a tendency to give off sparks each time he hit the 'enter' key, and thus had been sent in for fixing or replacement. As far as Sephiroth knew, neither had happened yet.

"It sounds promising," he said slowly. Tapping a finger against his forearm, he looked at the Turk. "Who is the SOLDIER you are thinking of?"

"Zack Fair," he replied without a pause. Sephiroth blinked, remembering a young teen trailing behind Angeal that, instead of the usual stammering and shaking most gave him when they met him, had stuck his hand out and grinned.

"A good choice," Lazard said, tapping information into his computer. "An excellent record, extremely skilled and showing some progress with tactics. A little energetic, but he is still young."

Oh yes, the Director was definitely a politician. Zack was a little energetic in the same way raw Mako was a little dangerous. Sephiroth was tempted to say no but the only other option was to sit on a beach and get mobbed by public while getting sunburnt, so he dropped his arms and turned on his heel.

"Send the briefing to my apartment. I'll look it over while cleaning up."

As he walked away, he heard someone most likely Hollander say, "Why did you bring that mission up?" Sephiroth puzzled over it and the scientist's reaction all the way to his quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lifestream has a few surprises in store for those that visit. Hollander holds his secrets close and headaches still plague the Silver General. Maybe leaving the labs early was not a good thing.

Bathing under hot water always seemed like a luxury. Sephiroth took his time scrubbing away the dirt and grime from recovering, the water so hot that it was turning his skin an unappealing lobster color. Steam clotted the room and tried snaking out from under the door, and he had used up every last cleaning product he could find into the shower's caddy. Then when the water started growing cold and the steam lessened, Sephiroth sighed and turned it off, twisting his hair into a rope to squeeze the excess water out.

He stepped out of the shower and nudged the bathroom door open a crack to let more steam escape while he dried himself off. He used a second towel to wrap around his hair and, balancing the makeshift turban on top his head, he brushed his teeth. Once he rinsed out his mouth and put away his toothbrush and paste, Sephiroth leaned forward and studied the scar Hollander had been gushing over.

It was about two inches long, cutting over his eyebrow and along the top part of his eye socket and heading into his hair line where it finally stopped. From a distance, the scarring probably wasn't noticeable and he felt that only someone that studied SOLDIERs would see the healed tissue even if they were close to him. The only truly obvious point of where the sword had hit across the eyebrow and made a path in the fine hair. It was no wonder that Hollander wanted to know more about Hojo's technique in building him.

But why was Hollander startled with Tseng's suggestion? Unwrapping his hair, Sephiroth hung up his used towels and strode into his living area. The requested information was sitting on his table having been most likely delivered by a Turk trainee while he was showering. He quickly braided his wet hair and tossed it over his shoulder and picked up the file, wandering into his kitchen and searching for something more edible than protein bars and instant soups. The fridge had been cleaned out, but the freezer still had a couple frozen meals. Taking one, he put it in the microwave and started reading the mission outline while he waited.

It seemed standard enough. Some hot shot in ShinRa's many business layers had leaked out information concerning another not-quite-secret scientific discovery. The Turks were going in to find the files concerning that discovery while the SOLDIER was to make sure that no one snuck up on the Turk during the mission. The mission report finished off with the standard Wutia rebels cannot get their hands on this information for it will cause all sorts of problems, but it was so standard that Sephiroth skipped over the last few pages of babbling.

Sephiroth let the file drop on to the table and grabbed his meal from the microwave, blowing on his fingers until the sting faded. Maybe Hollander had been the one to leak this information. He was someone that would be high enough to know one of the not-really-secret scientific discoveries. Half of the army was part of those discoveries, especially the elites. If an enemy got their hands on that information, well Sephiroth was sure that he would be an old man by the time anything came from that. So then what?

Maybe it was a power play. He gnawed on a chicken bone and looked at the files spread out over his coffee table. Hojo won the coveted position of Head Scientist in ShinRa with Sephiroth's very obvious specialness. Maybe Hollander was trying to bump Hojo off that spot by some kind of new twist that he thought would work only to lose the files during one of his logo-encrusted tee shirt searches. That sounded much more plausible than any other theory Sephiroth could think up, including Hollander having to sell the secrets to fuel his obsession.

It could be that Hojo planted the whole thing, and that Hollander found out and asked the Turks to recover the false information before it got too pear-shaped. Hollander was a lower level scientist fighting and scrambling for recognition among the other scientists. Any slip from him would result in a visit by a senior Turk some quiet night instead of a retirement party. Like so many other positions inside the company, scientists were in it for life.

Sephiroth tossed the bone on to his plate and leaned back with a sigh, letting the information filter through his mind. Somewhere in those files was the real reason why they needed a Turk and a SOLDIER for this mission to Banora. Somewhere that he couldn't quite see because the left side of his head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat making it hard for him to read between the lines. Sephiroth rubbed the tender scar tissue, risking a glance at the clock and groaning at the time. Already out of the labs and trying to stick himself back there because he wasn't taking care of himself. Almost imagining the lecture he would get for nixing his recovery by ignoring doctor orders, Sephiroth got up, shuffled the files into a neat pile, tossed his refuse into the incinerator chute and rinsed off his plate. Then he went to bed, expecting to stare up at the ceiling until it was time to get ready for the mission.

He was out within ten minutes.

\------------

Everything around him looked like it had been through a fire and then was coated by tar. The ground felt squished down and tacky, the air like fresh smoke off of a funeral pry, and it all caused his skin to prickle at the _recoil-reach-want-need-hate_ feel of his surroundings. He ignored the need to rub his arms or shift impatiently, although he did roll his eyes at what was obviously another one of those dreams. While he didn't care much for the surrounding area, Sephiroth admitted that he was grateful he had managed to wear something more than his underwear this time.

"Well? I am waiting," he said when it became clear that she wasn't going to show up anytime soon.

The sticky sweet-sour-hate-need feel thickened, and Sephiroth had to force his next breath out against the tar and ash coating the air. Something cracked both in his ears and scrapped across his bones and he thought he saw movement in the thick ink running over his feet and trying to catch his braided hair.

"Shall I start counting?"

His surroundings imploded and inside the forming maw he saw a pale humanoid shape surrounded by white gossamer strands. There was something strangely familiar about that form but before Sephiroth could ponder over why, the sucking blackness exploded outward, splattering him with copper-sweet goop. He stumbled and caught a flash of steel out of the corner of his eye, jerking back fast to avoid the edge of a sword.

The floor clung to his feet as he rolled away from another sweeping slice. Ash and soot and tar clogged his throat as he brought up his arms to deflect stabs towards his chest. He twisted, feeling skin part at his hip. He kicked, heard a grunt, and slapped his hands together. Silvered steel held fast between the palms of his hands, Sephiroth looked down the blade's length and stared into acidic Mako-green eyes.

"What trick is this?" the other man growled. Sephiroth braced himself, Masamune's edge cutting slowly into his hands and the ground beneath his feet shifting. "Answer!"

Sephiroth frowned and pushed the sword wielder back, ignoring his bleeding palms. The other man bared his teeth, leaning his weight into the sword. Mako-green eyes met Mako-green eyes and both men looked down, Sephiroth letting go of the blade even as the other lowered it. They stood silent, not quite looking at each other until the one spoke.

"You. . . Why are you here?"

"I could ask the same of you."

They looked at each other again. Sephiroth noticed that the black goop surrounding them was actually bleeding from the other man, thick strands of it coming from slashes across his fish-white body. In comparison to his dead skin, his eyes were burning with some kind of life against the sunken, blacken skin around them. There was something obscene with the way his hair looked so fragile against the thick realness of the single black wing protruding from his shoulder and bled into the suffocating-needed-hated ink around them.

". . . This did not happen," he hissed and darted forward. Sephiroth started to pull back but the ground sunk around his feet holding him fast. Cold fingers gripped his chin and he felt his knees buckle as _voices-screams-hate-need-hunger-mother-MAKE THEM PAY_ slammed into his mind in a clotted rush of thoughts. Sephiroth chopped the flat of his hand against his throat and ripped his feet free of the sucking ground, stumbling away from the coughing thing wearing his skin. He felt his hair snag on something, caught the scent of flowers, and fell.

The jolt of landing woke him up. Sephiroth spent a few moments getting his breathing under control before sitting up and taking inventory. The dreams were starting to really annoy him, especially when his obviously drugged and completely nutter self was staring in them now, but at least he wasn't injured. Rubbing his face, he glanced at his clock, huffed at the time, and tossed aside his sheets. He had thirty minutes until the briefing.

\-------

"WOMAN!"

"You don't need to yell."

"What are you planning by bringing him here?"

"But I didn't bring him here."

"You expect me to believe that he would come here of his own accord? Don't make me laugh."

"Well. . . you never did figure out everything you could do until after Nibelhiem, right? So maybe getting a bump on his head showed him a few new tricks that he hasn't quite worked out."

". . .You're up to something."

"Me?"

"It will not work. History will play itself out, as always, and he will follow his path to me like he should."

"I've always wondered about that."

"There is nothing to wonder about. History doesn't change."

"Then why are historians always finding something new?"

". . ."

"See? You know I'm right."

"Smugness dos not become you, woman."

"Does this mean you're going to sulk again?"

"I refuse to listen to any more of your dribble."

"Well. . . I guess then he'll have to talk to me alone when he comes back."

"You are a fool. I shall watch how this turn out with pleasure."

"Does that mean that you'll stop trying to poison the Lifestream?"

"Leave me alone, woman. Go back to your little boyfriend."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Goodbye~."

"Huh, I guess he doesn't like me any more."

"Don't let it worry you, Zack. I think that things are going to get messy."

"Don't worry! I'm sure that it will work out."

"He wasn't supposed to find out until after Sephiroth manages to figure out what he really wants to do."

"Guess that means I have to start watching him, huh?"

"Don't get caught. . ."

"Hey, I'm pretty good at this sort of thing."

"Okay, but if he notices you. . ."

"I know, I know - run for it!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, surprises are found when you seek them.

Sephiroth met Zack on the way to the briefing room. He had never actually been alone with the younger SOLDIER between the war and his own work. He had heard about Zack Fair from Angeal - how promising he was, how skilled for such a short time in the program, how friendly and charming he could be. He also heard other things concerning him, like his restlessness and his loyalty and his eager need to become a hero and save people and win the respect of the world. Sephiroth found it strange that someone inside the company could still dream so big.

"So, we're going to work together on this one?" Zack asked, marching behind him and a little to his right.

He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at Zack. "You're on your own. I am only accompanying you for evaluation purposes."

"Woah, wait? Evaluating? Me? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing." Sephiroth walked into the briefing room and glanced around. It was still early but there was already coffee and morning rolls on a side table. He ignored them and leaned against the conference table, folding his arms across his chest. Zack grabbed a glazed roll from the pile and took a huge bite.

"So why th' evaluation?" he asked, waving the roll at Sephiroth and scattering crumbs. "It can't be the yearly thing cuz I got that one squared away in Wutai, right?"

Arching an eyebrow at the roll, Sephiroth reminded himself that Zack was barely seventeen and still had a problem with maintaining full discipline. "What are the three reasons why a SOLDIER would go through an evaluation?"

Zack shoved the rest of the roll into his mouth and frowned, chewing hard. He looked up at the ceiling and then down at the ground before snapping his fingers and swallowing. "There's the yearly thing, the thing when you've done something wrong and a promotion thing. . ."

Sephiroth nodded, watching the way the brunet's face changed colors, from a light tan to a reddish-brown. His eyes grew huge and the grin splitting his face was extremely eager.

"Wait. No way!"

"Yes way."

Sephiroth tilted his head to the side. "Tseng. Good morning."

"Sephiroth." The Turk nodded, looking at Zack. "With the losses from Wutai and the growth of the SOLDIER Program, it has been decided that we need two more Firsts to handle the command duties. Angeal has nominated you for that position and Genesis has nominated Samuel Barton for the other position. Because of the nature of the openings, your evaluation will be handled by Sephiroth while Samuel's will be handled by Angeal."

Zack was bouncing in place, the Mako in his eyes glowing almost as bright as his huge grin. "First? Awesome, man! I -" glancing at Sephiroth, he attempted to stand straighter which made him look like a puppy trying to ignore his wagging tail "- I'm honored, sirs."

Puppy. . . Sephiroth tried covering his twitching lips by the fall of his bangs, understanding now what Angeal meant by his dry comments concerning 'puppy training'. "Let's continue, Tseng."

"Mn, yes," Tseng brought a couple files up onto the main screen, one showing the face of a mid-level lab technician and the other a map of the Banora area. "Trent Browne was working on several classified files for the SOLDIER enhancement programs when he went missing in the outlaying areas of Banora. Several files and some equipment also disappeared with him, so we are assuming he is planning to either copy the SOLDIER techniques for the highest bidder, or he has been snatched by an anti-ShinRa group with that purpose in mind.

"Zack, you will be accompanying me during the search. Your presence should help in case there are any unusual monsters in the area."

"So, I'm like a bodyguard or something?"

"Let's say more like an extra set of hands if there is a large amount of Mako-enhanced monsters in the area."

"So, a bodyguard."

Tseng was too controlled to sigh loudly, but Sephiroth could see that he wanted to badly. Sephiroth bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He could see the charm in having someone like Zack around even if he was still young and loud and far too hyper for his own good. It was refreshing.

"Make sure you have everything and meet us at the landing pad," Tseng said, standing up. Zack glanced over at Sephiroth and bounced from heel to toe.

"I'm ready!"

Resisting the urge to smile, Sephiroth turned on his heel and led the way out of the room and to the elevator. The three got in, Tseng swiped his card in the scanner, and then punched the button for the roof. Sephiroth leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and Zack bounced a couple times in place before doing squats.

"Think we're going to see some action?"

"I am just observing," Sephiroth replied, glancing at Zack. The younger man rubbed the back of his head, chuckling ruefully.

"Uh, sorry. I'm just so excited."

"It is only a routine investigation," Tseng added as the elevator came to a stop. The three marched out and headed for the waiting copter.

"Routine? But there are monsters and terrorists where we're going! Mako monsters!"

Tseng looked over his shoulder at Zack, smiling. "That's why Turks are paid better than SOLDIERs."

"Aw, man!"

Sephiroth listened to their prattle with half an ear, staying at the back of their group as they climbed into the helicopter and Tseng took over the pilot's seat. Zack groused good-naturally as he settled in his seat, strapping himself in and bounced his foot as the helicopter's blades sped up. Sephiroth sat back in his own seat, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be a long trip.

During the transcontinental flight, Sephiroth found out more about Angeal then he really wanted to know. He also found out about how the Second Class felt when it came to the General, the gossip about the President's Honeybee visits, and disgusting details concerning Hojo's not-so-secret experiments. He never felt so much relief to step out of a helicopter and fall back into an observational position in his life. Tseng gave Zack his instructions again, and the three were off, heading up to Banora from the landing site.

Zack proved to be an excellent SOLDIER. Now that he had something to do, he kept his mouth from running off and stayed focused on his mission, although he did ask a question about the area and the Banora Whites lining their approach. He also kept a good rapport with Tseng, referring to him when needed, but also taking the initiative also. Sephiroth could see Zack as a First, especially dealing with the young candidates for the program. His good-natured smiles and childlike happiness would be far better than his own attempts at being approachable, especially for those cadets with social problems.

Trailing behind the two, Sephiroth mentally composed his report while munching on an apple. So far, Tseng's proposal of needing a SOLDIER was unfounded. The beasts they were encountering were native to the land, although they seemed far more aggressive than normal. Sephiroth gnawed on his apple core, getting every last bit of flesh from it, and then he tossed it into some nearby bushes. A spark of green rose up in its wake, catching his attention. He paused, looking up at Tseng and Zack as the two pause under a young Banora White tree, and then turned, following the apple core's trail.

Past a thicket of thorny bushes and under the edge of a mound of dirt was a fountain of green motes. Sephiroth knelt down next to it, his hand on Masamune's hilt in case something tried to come at him. It wasn't a Mako spring those were huge natural basins filled with the raw power of the planet in liquid form. These were dry, almost like seeds from a dandelion, clinging to his gloved hand but floating gently off with a puff of air. The smell was similar though, something green, fertile and calm, like grass after a sudden shower. And when he let a few motes touched his bare skin, he felt a coolness, a peace and something oddly like coming home.

Sephiroth sat back on his haunches, frowning. With this much energy, why didn't ShinRa build a reactor here? The farmers and merchants that harvested dumbapples for the rest of the world would not have stopped the President from stripping away the old groves and setting up a new power source. He had it done in other areas heavy with Mako energy, so why did he refrain from that practice here?

A distant pop roused him from his thoughts. Looking up, he tilted his head, focusing on his hearing and catching the sound of several more pops up ahead. Gunshots. He was hearing gunshots. Standing, he left the fountain behind as he moved swiftly through the brush and back to the path. Now the pops were more distinctive, sounding less like those from a heavy hand gun and more like a machine gun firing. As far as he knew, Tseng only carried two handguns and some small knives. That meant Tseng's prediction of there being rebels here was correct.

He quickened his stride, the gunshots growing louder. He could now hear the scraping of a blade against steel, and the sharp scent of gunpowder. Strange though that it smelt almost like the stuff ShinRa used and not the cheaper mixes most rebels and Wutaians used. Another scent came to him, of something rotted and left in Mako, and he stopped right before two misshapen creatures lurched out of the undergrowth.

They were vaguely manlike, vaguely lizardlike with long forked tongues and huge webbed feet. Each one held hooked knives in their hands and their eyes were slitted mucus green. Not in the mood to play, Sephiroth drew his sword, angling the blade to cut through the chest of one, twisted the blade as he brought it over and down through the other. He flicked the pinkish blood from his sword and continued up the path and into the clearing.

Zack was fighting one of Scarlet's newest creations in front of a large manor home. Tseng was crouched down next to a tree, a hand against his shoulder and his lips thinly pressed together. Three more of those twisted creatures were nearby, dead from several well-placed bullet holes. Zack looked like he was doing fine, so Sephiroth turned towards the Turk, tilting his head at the wounded shoulder.

"Poisonous?"

"I believe so."

Sephiroth hummed softly, mentally shifting through his spells before casting Poisona. Tseng nodded, reloading his gun. "Here comes some more."

They were focusing on Zack more than on the other two men. Sephiroth easily beheaded one and gutted another before the rest turned to the new threat. By that time, Tseng had fatally injured two more, leaving one smaller creature for Sephiroth to bring down. The two men searched the bodies and came up with an assortment of odd findings a pack of gum, energy bars, loose change, and a couple potion bottles.

"Odd," Tseng said, examining the gum. "Why would monsters need this?"

"Why would they need clothing?" Sephiroth replied, poking at the ragged shorts one was wearing. Behind them came the teeth-grinding crunch of over a ton of steel becoming a pile of scrape metal and gunpowder. A few moments later, a shadow fell over Sephiroth's crouched form.

"Didja see that? I beat its tin. . . woah, what the hell is that?"

"That remains to be seen," Sephiroth said, standing up. He turned and looked Zack over, noting the few freshly Cured wounds, the smudges of grease and smoke, and turned back to the dead creature.

"Congratulations."

"Huh?"

"Zack. Sephiroth."

Both SOLDIERs looked over at Tseng, who was bent over a mound of disturbed earth. Frowning, Sephiroth walked over to the Turk's side, poking at the dirt with his boot before taking a step back and almost stepped on Zack. The younger SOLDIER huffed, and squirmed around him to get a better look at the mound.

"The dirt is fresh," Sephiroth said.

Tseng nodded. "I shall see what's inside of it. I find it odd that all the noise we've made hasn't brought any locals out to gawk."

"My thoughts exactly. Zack. With me."

He looked between the two men and scratched the back of his head. "Shouldn't someone stay here and - I don't know - keep an eye on things?"

Sephiroth looked up at the manor. The windows were empty, showing brief stills of unmoved furniture and dust-sprinkled air. He looked down at Tseng, who was snapping together a pack shovel with all the grim seriousness of a man that already knew what he was going to find. Sephiroth looked at Zack and shook his head.

"I think that some answers await us in the town, not here."

"Great," Zack said, shaking his arms out to either side of him. Taking a deep breath and he started down the path. "Now don't get lonely without us, Tseng."

Shaking his head, Sephiroth followed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When scientists battle, they reach for truths and lies. Sometimes, the truth is hidden in lies and the lies outweigh the truth, but it is always wise to never listen to them with a closed mind. Sometimes truths can be found when they are not wanted.

The village was occupied by monsters. Homes broken into, furniture tumbled, leaves drifting over the thresholds, food rotting in storage, it all told Sephiroth a tale of a sudden invasion. There were no bones, no graves, only twisted humanoid creatures and Blood Tastes, giving more credence to the rebels taking the villagers as prisoners, but for what reason? He never knew rebels to keep prisoners.

Several raw mako fountains sprouted around the abandoned houses, tiny trickles of green that repulsed the monsters, but drew the eyes. If he had time to spare, Sephiroth would take a closer look at the fountains, but as it was, he made a note as to where they laid for later examination. With so much pure mako around him, he really wanted to know why this place hadn't been turned into another reactor. What made this place so different?

"Hey, I found someone!"

He shook the questions to the back of his mind as he turned from a faint fountain of green and walked over to the last house in the square. Zack bounced once on his heels and ducked back into the house and after a moment, he followed the teen. It was cool and dark inside, the light coming from the doorway and a pair of small windows set near the back. Like most cottages they have been through, the kitchen, dining room and family space was one large space, separated by half-walls and sturdy furniture. Sephiroth glanced over at the collection of photographs on the sideboard before fixing his gaze on the small gray-haired woman seated at the large table.

"What happened here?" he asked, keeping his voice steady and low.

She looked up at him, her eyes widening. "You must be Sephiroth."

Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned. There was something strangely familiar about her, but he couldn't place ever seeing her before now. She chuckled softly; her blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and making him feel slightly disorientated.

"And I'm Zack!" The Second Class bounced in front of Sephiroth, holding out his hand. The woman looked at him and her smile grew.

"The puppy?"

"Huh?"

Sephiroth turned his chuckle into a cough, bringing the woman's attention back to him. "I'm surprised you know of us, ma'am."

"My son Angeal told me a lot about his friend Sephiroth and his student Zack Fair. He said that you were the watchful sort, and that Zack is as restless as a puppy." She smiled at the two men, and nodded at the pictures sitting on the sideboard. "We were so proud when Angeal joined SOLDIER. I only wished his father lived long enough to see him become a First."

Was that a note of hesitation in her voice? Tilting his head to the side, Sephiroth studied her for a moment, seeing some of Angeal in her clear eyes and the shape of her jaw. But he also noticed the faded marks on her hands, as if she spent years manipulating mako and needles and the other tools of a scientist before coming to this place. She stared back at him; her hands curled in her lap and her smile a faded sweetness on her worn face.

"I never knew Angeal was this small." A picture was shoved into his face, forcing Sephiroth to take a step back. "Look! Angeal and Genesis as babies!"

Taking a deep breath before he said something scathing, Sephiroth did look. Genesis was a toddler, face sticky and a piece of an apple in his chubby fist. Angeal was sitting on a tiled floor, munching on his fist with all the enjoyment of a man with a sweet. He felt a moment of dizziness, his stomach churning as if from a sudden drop of gravity, and fought down his unease.

"Put the picture back, Zack," he said, green eyes slitting as he looked beyond Zack's shoulder and at the woman in front of them. "I am sure Mrs. Hewley doesn't like having her personal belongings manhandled."

He recognized that flooring. He knew the angling of lightening, the glow stronger than what most villages needed. Intellectually, he knew that Angeal and Genesis were both like him, but seeing proof of it twisted something in his gut. Knowing that they actually had a family that would take pictures like that made the twisting spread.

"I don't mind," she said, her smile not touching her eyes. "They were best friends throughout their lives."

"They grew up together? That's awesome."

"What happened here?" Sephiroth asked, cutting off any more comments from Zack. The younger man put the picture down and sighed, moving over to the window to look outside.

She sighed, toying with the end of her shawl. "A group of men came and took the rest of the villagers away. They said that they were going to finish what was started, but I. . . I don't know what they would need so many people for."

"Do you know who they were?" Zack crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight onto his left leg and tapped his right foot. "I mean, was there any symbols or badges they were wearing that you could see?"

Gillian pursed her lips and then shook her head. "Nothing from what I could tell. There was a pale, skinny man with them and he looked scared. One of the armed men was pushing him around with the barrel of his gun."

"That must be the guy," Zack said, looking over at Sephiroth. The General nodded once, his eyes narrowed and focused on the woman. He was sure she was lying. He didn't know about what, but something in her words didn't sound right.

"Do you know where they were heading?" Zack asked, turning back to Gillian. She frowned, looking at the ground and then nodded.

"I think they headed for the old factory outside of town," she said.

"Zack," Sephiroth said. The teen glanced over at him and Sephiroth nodded towards the door. "Go inform Tseng and make your way towards the factory. I'll catch up after insuring Mrs. Hewley's safety."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'll make sure she reaches the helicopter."

He chewed on his lower lip and nodded, grinning widely at her. "Okay. I'll talk to you later, Mrs. Hewley."

Sephiroth waited until the sound of Zack's boots faded before he moved from the door frame and took the only other chair in the kitchen space. Swinging it around, he straddled it and leaned forward, folding his arms on top of the back of the chair and resting his chin on his hands. Gillian remained where she was, watching him while toying with her shawl, a faint line showing between her eyebrows.

"So," he said, lowering his voice. "Tell me why you are lying."

Gillian's smile was suited for a different kind of woman. She stood up, her back straight and her steps smooth, and walked over to the stove, moving a kettle onto a burner and turning it on.

"I think some things need tea," she said, reaching above the stove to take out a couple tins. "Do you wish for some, Sephiroth?"

"No thank you."

"So polite," she said, sighing a little. "But you didn't always speak like that. You always had a gift for mimicry, and it surprised him when he heard you copying the guards' slang." She looked into one tin for a long moment and sighed softly. "I think that was when he decided to start the voice lessons."

The tea kettle popped as the water started heating up, and she raised the lid, tossing a few dried brown leaves into the water. Sephiroth's mouth was dry, vague memories of three helmeted men telling him stories in voices accented by Midgar slums. Then the memory was gone and he was back in a dim kitchen, watching an old woman boil her tea.

"Who are you?"

"A former scientist that had retired to raise her son," she said, taking down a heavy earthen ware mug and setting it next to the kettle. "Or so the official reports say. Unofficially, I was brought here to observe the two specimens from Project G and make sure they returned to ShinRa when the time was right."

She took down another tin and spooned some white crystals into the mug. Taking the kettle off the flames, she covered the burner, and poured the steaming tea into the mug. She stirred slowly, and then set the kettle down, moved back to the table and sat down across from him. Sephiroth remained silent, not sure what he could say to this strange woman. There were too many thoughts in his head; the only one managing to stay put was that she was there at the beginning. She must have known his mother.

Gillian blew on her tea, cradling the mug between her fingers. "Those were strange times. I must admit that we thought that something exciting would happen, that we had finally brought the Cetra back, but then it became all too apparent what we really done."

"I do not see what the past has to do with now," Sephiroth said, finding his voice only to speak harshly. He wanted to know so much but he couldn't say it. The left side of his head hurt and the faint bitter scent of her tea was making it worse.

"Your mother thought differently." Sephiroth jerked back at those words, his eyes widening. Gillian took a sip of her tea and sighed. "She spent her time lost in the texts from the past, looking for the clues to unlock mysteries of Chaos and Omega. Her with her nose in a book, that poor young Turk stumbling after her, was such a common sight in those days. That was before you, Sephiroth. After. . . well, I would have never wished that man on any woman even if he was a genius in his own right."

"My. . . Jenova?"

Gillian snorted, taking a large swallow of tea before setting it down and standing up. She went to the sideboard and opened the left cupboard, taking out a thick book and returning to the table. She flipped through the pages, and turned it so he could see. A photograph of several people standing in front of a snowy manor - two women and four men, all save one of the men dressed in lab coats and wearing name tags. Gillian looked less worn and haunted, while the stooped-shouldered Hojo looked almost the same. Sephiroth recognized Gast, standing in the back with a fatherly smile, and Hollander wearing sandals and a floral printed shirt under his lab coat, but the second woman, he couldn't place. The Turk also looked unfamiliar, but he had never met the older members of that Department, not that getting old as a Turk was easy.

"I'm surprised that they managed to capture a Turk on film," he said, trying to joke even as he touched the smiling face of the unknown woman.

"Your mother's name is Lucrecia Crescent."

He sucked in air, eyebrows furrowing. Even the name was unfamiliar. He didn't understand why Hojo gave him a different name as belonging to his mother. Was it because he might actually knew her?

"Lucrecia," he said, his lips shaping the name even as he looked up, watching Gillian finished the last of her tea and set the mug down. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I never understood why she allowed that man to do what he did," she said, her fingers tapping against the mug's lip. "I never thought it was right how you were raised but I was here, unable to communicate with you even as you grew less isolated."

Coughing, she shook her head, her back bending and her breath sharp and harsh. Sephiroth blinked, frowning as he noticed the bluish tint to her lips.

"So I sow seeds to avenge the lovers and you children. . ." She was gasping now, the blue tint spreading across her face. Sephiroth swore, standing up and reaching out to her with hands and magic, calling up the healing powers of Poisona. But the spell fizzled and died as she jerked upright and gasped out 'Nibelheim!' before collapsing onto the floor.

He knocked over the chair and bent down next to her, trying what few items he brought with him to revive her with no success. Sitting back on his heels, Sephiroth stared at her twisted body and silently screamed for her to get up and tell him what she meant. He wanted to know more about his mother, the young woman with the impossibly thick hair in that photograph. He wanted to know about the lovers she mentioned, and why they needed avenging. He wanted to know whatever detail she could tell him but now, all that was left was burying the body and informing Angeal that his mother had died.

Sephiroth didn't even know how he could tell his friend without feeling like a liar.

Releasing his pent-up breath, he slammed his fist into the floor, splitting the wood into crazed chunks he stood up and retrieved the book with the picture of the scientists in it. There were other pictures as well, but this was not the time to look at them all. Closing it, he shoved it into a pocket inside of his coat for later study and gingerly picked up the mug Gillian had been drinking from. The bitter smell of almonds reached his nose and he stared back down at the body, his hand closing around the mug and shattering it. He let the pieces fall to the ground and turned away from the table and the house, stepping outside into the sunlight.

A moment later, someone tried dropping a bomb on him.

It had been a long day. He had found a link to his past and then lost it because ShinRa scientists were for life and he understood that for some people, the last act of defiance was to prevent any death not of their choosing. So it was forgivable that Sephiroth reacted without thought or concern at getting a bomb dropped on him.

Fire3 arched up from him, catching the bomb and tossing it up as it exploded. He jumped after the column of superheated air, the Masamune a blur as he twisted and brought it down across the body of a fat ancient ShinRa helicopter. He had a brief glimpse of two pale, open-mouthed faces as the cockpit fell past him, but then he was slapping the propellers away from getting too close to his face, twisted on the updraft from the ruined copter as it hit the ground. And just for good measure, he cast Bolt3 on the wreckage, his mouth stretching in wicked glee at the resounding boom that echoed around the tiny square.

He let his body drift down, finally landed on the ground without any jarring. He tossed his hair back into place and swung his sword over his shoulders, watching the flames catch the gasoline tank and exploding. Amid the patter of falling debris, smaller explosions, and ticking of overheated metal, the ring of his phone sounded hopelessly lost.

"Sephiroth speaking," he said, turning his back on the burning wreckage and walking out of the town.

"We've found what we were looking for," Tseng replied. "Gather any survivors and head out."

"There are none." In his mind's eye, he recalled Gillian's blue face and last words, wondering why she said what she said. Sephiroth glanced around the village and took a deep breath, knowing that this place would only be an embarrassment to the company now there was nothing left. "Is clean-up coming?"

"In ten minutes." A pause - in which Sephiroth could hear someone chattering in the background about orders - and then Tseng was back, sounding businesslike. "This cannot be laid at ShinRa's doorstep."

He wondered if there could be another way to cover up this place besides bombs. Sephiroth closed his phone with a click, tucking it away and looking over the small village, the burning helicopter, the empty houses. He could feel the thick picture album in his pocket and remembered how Gillian talked about the people in that photograph. Revenge for the lovers and the three boys, and then Nibelheim. Some secret that linked the pieces together, along with Genesis, Angeal and himself, pieces he was told about by a girl in pink who had eyes older than any human he had ever met.

The left side of his head throbbing in time to his heartbeat, he walked towards the drop zone in a haze.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you alright?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm only trying to help you."

"If you wanted to help me, then maybe you should have done something about my childhood. Or do you think that spending those years as a private pincushion for a mediocre imbecile was a good life?"

"Some things just have to happen."

'Why? Tell me why?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to die."

". . . Hasn't it changed?"

"No. . . It only has been delayed."

He woke with his headache a fading memory. The helicopter's engine was powering down, the blades changing in sound as the helicopter hovered and then started its descent. Sephiroth glanced out the window and watched Midgar rise up to meet them, green smoke pouring out of Mako Reactor 7, and a haze covering everything. He wasn't sure why, but the sight of that place, the black ring around the outside of the city and the hazy air, had him wanting to bring it all down.

Sephiroth sighed, reaching up to rub the healed spot over his left eye. He was just tired, that was all. He was still healing from his injury, and what had happened in Banora also wore him down. The look Zack gave him when they saw the first bombs land in the village had been particularly gut-churning. He had wanted to yell at the Second, ask him what the man thought he could do, being just a tool in ShinRa's pocket, but only looked away and took a seat. Zack found a spot across from him and the trip was made in silence.

And now Zack wasn't even waiting for the other two as he headed for Headquarters. Sephiroth let him go, taking out his PHS and composing a message as he walked. The doors hissed with compressed air as he stepped inside and scowled at the tiny screen and the small buttons. He managed to type out a quick message and sent it to the two men that deserve to hear what had happened.

The elevator doors opened as he came close, and he stepped inside, swiped his ID into the slot and hit the button for the Director's office. He closed his PHS, planning on getting the paperwork done before facing Angeal and Genesis. They deserved to have his undivided attention, and he knew that until he wrote everything down, he would be hard to talk to.

There were three desks in the Director's office. The one in the center was Lazard's - neatly covered with paperwork, folders, and a quietly humming computer. To the right was a desk usually used by a secretary when the department needed one. Sephiroth remembered that there was a woman managing that desk only during times when Lazard lived in the boardroom, or had to go to the front. The past few months saw the woman's removal and Sephiroth had no idea where she went to. The desk to the left was the one used by the generals whenever they felt like it. They had their own offices, complete with their own secretaries and hanger-ons, but yet they always drifted to the Director's office for work.

Sephiroth sat down behind the third desk, and dug around in the drawers for some paper and a pen. He dislodged a dried piece of apple from one drawer, knocked over a small house built out of toothpicks in the next drawer, and found what he was looking for under a thesis on mako mutations in robots in the bottom drawer. Notebook and pen in hand, he started writing out his report, trying to keep some neatness to his penmanship. The first page was fine, but as he worked to the second page, his writing grew sloppy, the angle of his sentences arching up to the right. Sephiroth bit the pen's tip and shrugged, going back to work. By the time he finished the report, it was about twenty pages long and the last two pages were filled with meandering scribbles that could only be called writing by a drunken chicken. He stamped it anyway with the _'Top Secret'_ stamper, tossed the notebook on top of Lazard's desk and checked his PHS. No messages from the other two Firsts. He gnawed on the pen and then shrugged, dropping it on the desk and leaving the office.

He headed for the Second's Training Room. He knew he was supposed to rest and not exhausted himself, but he didn't want to go to his apartment yet. The place wasn't private - any number of messengers, lab technicians, Hojo, cleaning staff, and other people Sephiroth did not care for had access to it. The only reason why he never decided to move to another building was that to him, a room was a room. He never thought about having a home.

The photograph book was a hidden weight of how much he had missed growing up inside a lab.

Reaching the Training Room, he checked for anyone using it before programming in the Sister Ray scenario and turning off the monster generation. He stepped inside the holo-room, waited for the program to build the scene around him. Sunlight made the huge gun gleam in gold and brass, the sea wind smelling clean this high from the pollution below. Sephiroth looked out over the ocean water, wondering how it would have been like before the gun was built there before turning his back on it and moving to sit on one of the many platforms built along the gun.

It was quiet, the breeze warm and the sunlight not as hot as it would be in Costa de Sol. Sephiroth let his mind drift, relaxing back against the warm metal and looked up at the sky. He didn't move when a shadow fell over him, the earthy scent telling him that it was probably Angeal. Cracking open his eyes, he glanced at the older man and looked away.

"What happened?"

Sephiroth sorted through his replies and then settled with a vague response. "I don't know."

"You don't- ?"

He studied Angeal, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Sephiroth stood, not sure how he could even begin to explain what had happened. Gillian killed herself and he did not know the reason why. Something was different about the three of them and he did not know why. He could not explain any of his feelings and his strangely vivid dreams to himself, let alone to someone like Angeal.

"We found evidence of rebels kidnapping the villagers and tampering with ShinRa equipment," Sephiroth said, speaking slowly. He really wasn't sure how to proceed with the rest of the information, settling to chew on the inside of his cheeks while he thought it over.

"And?" Where Angeal was, Genesis would soon appear. Sephiroth didn't bother to look at either man, falling back to hiding behind his bangs and folding his arms across his chest.

"Our parents, Sephiroth," Angeal said, steel in his voice. "What happened?"

"ShinRa authorized the destruction of Banora after finding that there were no survivors from the rebel attack."

Inwardly, Sephiroth cringed. He wouldn't know the ties that they had to a town and the people that lived there. He was never allowed those ties even as a child people he liked in the labs were either reassigned or disappeared thanks to blue-suited Turks. This strange friendship between him and the two other elite was the first real, open attachment he was allowed and he had no clue how to react.

Angeal's face had turned gray, his lips compressing in a thin white line. Genesis's features flushed, his smirk twisting into something he hadn't seen since the war. Sephiroth looked at both men, keeping his expression blank. His words didn't want to come, and his hands clenched tight around his biceps.

"And of course the ShinRa hero could not have ordered otherwise," Genesis said, tilting his head to the side. He leaned towards Angeal, his eyes fever-bright as they fixed on Sephiroth's face. "Always so perfect. Tell me, do you always do what you are told to do?"

"Genesis. . ."

"You are no hero."

Sephiroth closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. He was only trying to get a rise out of him, to attack or to do something. Genesis always did that. He was more worried about Angeal. Angeal. . . whose mother told him what Sephiroth could only assume were company secrets before she poisoned herself. Opening his eyes, he looked at the calmest of the three.

"Angeal. . ."

He saw the older man move, but he didn't dodge, didn't try to block. Taking the blow in his gut, Sephiroth staggered back, bending over and taking shallow breaths to fight off growing nausea. Still not speaking, Angeal turned on his heel, the hiss of doors and the wavering hologram signaling his departure. Squinting through spots, he looked up at Genesis, and watched as he turned and walked out of the room.

Left alone, Sephiroth allowed himself to sag completely.

\--------

"It's not your fault."

"Do you really have to act so stupid?"

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I know that."

"But why. . ?"

"Because I am the closest target and I can take the abuse."

". . . So you're all strange that way?"

"SOLDIERs do not sit around and cry. They beat things into a bloody pulp."

"But no one would think less of them if they did cry."

"Are you trying to make us human?"

"Is there anything wrong with being human?"

"No."

"Well then?"

"Look, I can understand trying to stop that madness. I can forgive you for invading my dreams and whispering in my ears, but I do not think you should persist in trying to make me into something different than I am."

"But SOLDIERs are humans too."

"No. . . We're monsters."

"STOP THAT!"

He jerked upright and rubbed the side of his face, almost seeing the scolding finger getting waved at him before that sensation faded too. If he didn't know that Hojo would love the excuse to run more tests, Sephiroth would have told him about the delusion. But he was certain he knew the girl from some where, and that figment or not, she was important for some reason. For what reason he had no clue, but he was going to find out.

Resting his head against the wall, he looked up at the fixtures and panels that made up the training room's walls. The program must have timed out, which meant that he had been sitting there, senseless for nearly an hour since Angeal hit him. The bruising felt gone and his breathing normal, but still he sat, resting his left arm over his left knee, head back as he looked up at the ceiling. He thought about the book in his pocket, and then he thought about a dying woman's words.

"I have names," he said, banging the back of his head against the wall. "I have pictures. Surely, I can find out something in the old records."

He smacked his head against the wall again, snorting at his momentary stupidity. Yes, they did keep a lot of detailed reports and files in the record room, but not everything. He knew that Hojo's notes would not be there, and he could guess that anything Hollander wrote down was also not in that room. He might be able to find some references but nothing as detailed as he wished.

"All I have is a vague idea," he said, smacking his head again and feeling a sharp ringing sound behind his ear. A few words. Lucrecia Crescent. Nibelheim. Project G. A Turk, missing now but once was following Lucrecia around. Chaos and Omega. Bits and pieces. Fragments that he needed to find a connection between and find out the truth.

"It would keep me from over exerting myself," he muttered, smacking his head again. The ringing was growing and he had a vague thought that if he kept it up, he may just end up passed out. Wouldn't that calm a few nerves, seeing the fearsome General with his head cracked open from being a complete idiot.

He stopped from trying to make good the idea, groaning and leaning forward. Rubbing his temples, he ignored the buzz between his ears and tried to dismiss the pieces. He needed to rest and he needed to eat. The rest could wait for a few more hours. He doubted that anyone else knew what Gillian had said to him.

Sephiroth stood, wobbling only slightly. One hand on the wall, he headed out of the room and towards his quarters. Food, clean clothing and some rest sounded like a very good idea right now. The rest would come to him in the morning.

\---------

He really didn't know why he stopped at the small mountain village. He could have kept on going, perhaps continue on to the Golden Saucer or maybe stayed at Rocket Town. A man with his talents could have gone anywhere so long as he did not bring too much attention to himself. But that tiny town sitting the shadow of a huge mountain something about it called to him so he stopped and claimed a small shed as his own.

The villagers reacted with open wariness and hostility until after he proved himself against bands of monsters. Still, they did not treat him any better than other outcasts of the town, even though they respected his skills and did nothing open against him. He vaguely heard rumors about himself from a fallen spy master to a hiding SOLDIER but he never did anything that could be traced back to his former life. It was a strange new life but he bore it with the same face as he bore other hardships and unpleasant tasks.

When some of the village children reported the missing pair, he went with the team to search for them. It surprised him that they were still alive, and that the deep river current hadn't swept them away. He didn't pay any heed of the lecture the boy was given, being far more concerned with getting the unconscious girl to a doctor, but later he heard about it from the rest of the rescue party when they insisted he went to drink with them. Sipping politely from the foul alcohol they served, he learnt a lot about the boy's family and his stain.

A lifetime ago, he knew that women and children were often the blame for a mistake. But he knew that the stories hid truth and as the party grew deeper into their cups, he worked them over by simply being a foreigner asking about their town's history. He learnt about the mountains and about the old ways and how strange that family was for sticking to them. And of course the pretty, tough little girl was not only the last of the family and seeped in its ways but courted a SOLDIER boy who left and never came back.

Two strikes against the woman. Three strikes against the child from her affair with the SOLDIER that left and never returned.

He was good at reading between the lines. He left the party and kept his thoughts to himself, making a note to watch for the tough, pretty blonde woman and her little son. He noticed some of the other villagers did not treat her harshly and were good to the small boy. But he also noticed that the boy grew angrier, spending more time fighting. The change had him frowning in his small shack, penning a simple missive to another keeper of secrets. The path the boy was on would only grow worse, and he knew that there was only pain for him at the end of that road.

When the girl approached him a few weeks later, he was moving through his katas while wondering how to stop the boy on his destructive path. He agreed to teach the girl in secret, wondering if this was a way to get at the boy, but as the weeks dragged on, he realized that she did not know the boy very well. No one did, and he couldn't just march down to speak with him, not here, not when the boy let his fists answer anyone that came near.

His answer came late one evening when the other keeper came to his back door. They spoke quietly, sipping bitter green tea out of thin jade cups, one an old man battle worn and the other slim and young with death in his eyes. They talked about the old ways and about what they have heard and then he remembered something quite simple. The next day, he told his student she needed someone near her size to spar with to save him his poor old bones.

She mentioned several names, her slightly hopeful look fading as he continued to stare at her. Finally she mentioned the small boy and he nodded slowly and told her to fetch him. When the boy came, he had a bloodied lip and scraped knuckles, and the sullen look of a half-wild wolf-pup in his too-bright eyes. He wondered then why he would waste his time on a child that didn't want to be saved, but taking a calming breath, he went to work. His job always was to train warriors. There was no reason why he should turn down the potential resting inside the Strife boy.


	7. Chapter 7

Wutai was a shadow of itself these days. Sephiroth looked out the window as the helicopter flew over the hard land, seeing the scars from ShinRa attacks and the people cleaning them up. There were signs of occupation everywhere; from the uniformed troopers to the surveyors and engineers already eying the craggy lands. He did not like some of the things he was seeing during his quick tour of ShinRa forces - already the new laptop had several files full of notes of necessary changes and he personally dealt with several instances of personnel taking too many liberties.

The last stop on his tour was the palace where he was to meet with those leaders able to stand and hand them the treaty. There was no ceremony, no celebration despite some ShinRa officials' attempts to make it otherwise, for which he was glad. He understood what these people felt far more than the officials did. He would have thought less of them if it was any other way.

Sephiroth expected the armed escort. He expected the Wutai officials - several of them still showing injures from the war - approaching Tseng before they cautiously spoke to him. He also expected the speed of the meeting with the assembled warlords, the king of Wutai sitting proud in the airy room, his defiance masking a deep grief. Sephiroth laid his sword in front of him before taking a seat, Tseng taking out the two copies of the treaty and laying them in front of Godo. He signed both, and then shoved one of the copies back at Tseng, dropping the quill as if it was dirty.

There was no offer of hospitality and little in the way of words save for a brief exchange in Wutai that Sephiroth pretended to not understand. Their business concluded Sephiroth saw no reason to linger; instead he headed straight for the waiting helicopter and the prospect of going back to Midgar. For once, Tseng scrambled to catch up with him.

"Is there a reason why you wish to leave now?"

"Do you really think that they like seeing me here, Tseng?" He glanced over at the usually unruffled Turk, raising an eyebrow at his flushed features. "Or do you forget they call me 'Demon' for a very good reason?"

The Turk visibly calmed down, taking a few deep breaths and releasing them before responding. "I had thought the tales were exaggerated."

"They weren't."

Sephiroth shrugged, keeping his voice low as they passed a few guards, several civilians and what looked like a food peddler with a tray of suspicious smelling rice and hundred-year-old eggs still slightly steaming in the air. "I am not happy how I gained the name now, but then. . . it was something I had of my own." Without ShinRa decreeing it so was his unsaid words.

"Ah."

It looked like business as usual was happening around them. Sephiroth and Tseng stopped to let a few people hurry pass, arms laden with scrolls. Sephiroth turned to Tseng to ask him about rumors concerning a missing Turk when he was pelted with several small rocks.

He blinked and toed the largest rock, which was about the size of a musket ball. Tseng just stared, the corner of his mouth twitching before he looked away. The rest of the hallway went utterly silent, and he looked up from the stones, noticing at the very wide-eyed, pale expressions on various people's faces. And standing in front of everyone was a small girl dressed in shorts and a very bright blue shirt.

"That was to get your attention! All enemies of Wutai must die!"

She was barely up to his waist and so thin that he could probably break her with his pinkie. Sephiroth just stared as the little girl came up to him and pretended to hit him several times. He would have glanced over at Tseng, but the Turk was making a slight choking noise under his breath. The rest of the bystanders were in various stages of shock, an older woman having actually fainted and nearly crushed a slender guardsman in her collapse. And still the girl continued to smack the air around him. She probably wouldn't stop until someone dragged her off or he walked away, though he had a feeling that she would continue to follow him slapping at air until he gave her what she wanted.

"Ouch," he said and watched as the girl stopped, did a happy bounce and went charging through the people, scattering them. Shaking his head, he turned back towards the exit, noticing the warring disbelief and amusement on Tseng's face.

"She's just a child," he said. Why did people find it so hard to see him having a sense of humor?

"And the princess of this land," Tseng replied, falling into step next to him.

"Is that so?"

"Much beloved by her people and very headstrong," he said as they stepped outside. Two ShinRa troopers fell into step behind them and Sephiroth inwardly fumed at the missing chance to speak privately with Tseng.

"Then I hope she grows to be a strong woman," he replied, looking at the city around him and seeing the changes already in its people.

Tseng gave him a sharp look but said nothing, and the rest of their trip made in silence.

Back in Midgar, Sephiroth made his reports, and worked out a much needed plan for the conduct of ShinRa personnel in Wutai's borders with the various military leaders. That took a few more days, followed by reading the new cadet files and looking in on the two new Firsts. Zack, surprisingly enough, showed some competence in his new duties, although he still bounced around the place like a hyper puppy. The other First was still having some problems with the workload, but Samuel was slowly adjusting. It was probably the age difference Zack was not even legal in some parts of the world, while Samuel was near Angeal's age.

He avoided seeking out Angeal or Genesis, instead heading to the labs and his re-evaluation tests. Hojo poked, prodded, asked questions about everything from changes in his vision to changes in his sexual habits. Sephiroth scowled, avoided answering him in more than two words, and shivered until the scientist tossed his hands in the air and shoved a purple lollipop at Sephiroth.

"Ungrateful pest," he muttered, scribbling away in his charts. "Doesn't tell me anything. . . me! Where would he be if I didn't create him? Such perfection. . . Wasted on a spoilt ingrate!"

Sephiroth eyed Hojo - the stooped shoulders, the lank hair, the lined face and black eyes - and crunched hard on his treat. "Who is Lucrecia?"

Hojo's face drained of all color. The chart and pen fell to the floor. He sputtered, hands twitching, a vein pounding hard in his neck. "W-what did you say?" he wheezed, eyes wide and staring at him.

"Who is Lucrecia?"

The old man shuddered, his lips pressed together hard. Two spots of red high on his cheeks appeared and he took a noisy, harsh breath. "Where did you hear that name?"

Sephiroth had expected denial. He had expected Hojo snorting and telling him to never mind about the dead. He did not expect him to act like this, like the name was far more painful than anything ever done on any of his test subjects.

"I found it in an old research journal," he replied, shrugging slightly, the lie easily said. "I had noticed that she had started in ShinRa around the same time you had, so I wondered if you met her. She seemed. . . interesting."

Hojo retrieved his chart and pen but he continued to stare at Sephiroth like he had never seen him before. "I did."

"Oh?"

He had hoped that Hojo would say something more about her, that maybe the old man might actually just tell him something, but whatever spell had him was gone. The scientist shook his head and bent back to his writing.

"You have better things to wonder about than the dead," he said with a dismissive sniff. "Get dressed, boy."

Sephiroth got dressed and left, still chewing on his lollipop stick and mulling over Hojo's reaction. So, he was certain of one thing. Hojo lied about Lucrecia not because of disgust but because the mere thought of her hurt him. She was something special to the old man, but that didn't tell him much, just that they did have a history together. He had found pieces of her work in the archives, but the filing system was a mess and he still had huge holes in his information. The missing Turk was one. Nibelheim was another. And now that Hojo cleared him for active duty, Sephiroth wasn't going to have the time to look for more information.

But wait, there were four other First now. Sephiroth stopped at the elevators and tapped his access card against the key slot. He could delegate when he wished since they were no longer fighting a war. But first thing was first. He needed to really look at that book Gillian gave him, not just skimming it for pictures of Lucrecia, but really look at it. And for that, he needed to take it out of the archives.

Hiding objects in plain sight was something he learnt not from teachers but from being a general pest in the labs while a child. He had hid Hojo's notes under a pile of data sheets on more than one occasion and watched the man tear the labs apart while not looking in the data sheets. So when he needed a secure place to hide the photo album, he stuck a book sleeve from the Mako Fractures series over it and placed it in the Urban Development section of the archives. So far, not even Reeve had bothered it.

Swiping his access card in the slot, he hit the button for the archives and watched the lights count the floors. So, retrieve the book, and then use the pictures to find out who the other people are. The Turk had to be in the system, so if he used his appearance to scan the database, he might have another clue. And if he really worked at it, he might actually be able to see the shape of why Gillian had done what she done.

He grimaced and shook his head, stepping out of the elevator. So many what-ifs. There was a very good chance that he wouldn't find anything important. And without any information but the bare facts, he may just have to go looking for it outside of ShinRa. Like at Nibelheim. As far as he knew, ShinRa still had files buried inside their headquarters there.

Nodding as he passed Reeve - files and books over-balanced in the man's arms as usual - Sephiroth stepped into the first file room and pulled a few books off the shelves. He wandered the shelves, pulling a few more books off and headed for the next room, repeating the process. Dumping what he had onto a desk, he went back, this time he made sure to find the old album in its borrowed dust jacket.

Or he tried to.

He located the dust jacket sitting at a small desk near the back of the archives. The book was gone, and he searched over the stacks of books looking for the scuffed brown cover. His headache grew worse with every second of it not appearing so much so that he had to sit down and close his eyes, mentally calming himself down before he did something completely unforgivable. He searched the archive again, and knowing that whoever had the book never brought it back, he took the dust cover and left.

He could have asked the Mayor for who had been there in the past month, but that would be pointless. Everybody ends up in the archives for one reason or another. Reeve haunted the place like a specter, but the Turks, engineers, mako researchers and even a few members of those weird fanclubs ended up buried in the archives paging through books. It would only be a waste of time to try tracking them down. But if the Angeal or Genesis clubs started posting baby pictures of them, well, that would bear looking into. It was only when he got to his rooms that Sephiroth noticed someone tucked a note into the sleeve of the dust jacket.

 _'Meet me at the_ Gil _the twenty-second by ten p.m.'_ it read.

Staring at the typed message, Sephiroth frowned. Then crumpling it up, he set it on fire and let the ashes drift through his fingers. He wasn't going. It was probably just another fan, trying to be mysterious. Tearing up the dust cover, he tossed it and took out the files he had been reviewing the night before. Maybe he could forget trying to figure things out about his past. Maybe. . .

Who was he kidding? He was going to be there, even if it was to smack the thief around before taking his book back. The Bent Gill was the perfect place too - no one knew him there and they didn't care about fighting as long as the tables weren't destroyed in the process. A smile touching his lips, Sephiroth let the files drop on to the table and decided to go visiting the Training Room. He would do the work later, after he ran through some urban combat sessions.


	8. Chapter 8

"Did you really think it was all a dream?"

". . . I thought you were gone."

"No. . . not yet!"

"What do you want?"

"Do you really think that it's what I want that keeps bringing you here?"

"Yes."

"You should ask yourself what you want."

"What I want. . ?"

"Yup! What do you want, General?"

". . . Nothing."

"Maybe you don't know yet."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mm, that's true. But don't you think it's time to wake up?"

He sat up, the sheet pillowing around his hips. Someone was pounding on his door, the loud thud almost in time with that of his pulse. The room swayed, his eyes refusing to focus, and he felt like he just fell from a great height to land on his bed. Then everything snapped into place and Sephiroth threw of sheets off, telling himself to forget that moment of dislocation. Wearing little more than his hair, he yanked his door open and glared.

"Do you always answer your door in such a state of dress?" Genesis drawled, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly.

Sephiroth let go of the doorknob and turned his back. "What do you want?"

"So rude. Won't you invite me in?"

He waved his arm, moving back to his bedroom and finding a pair of scrubs to pull on. Genesis followed him, the redhead leaning against the door frame watching him. Sephiroth didn't care – even before living out of camps during the war he never had issues with being naked in front of people. Flipping his hair over his shoulder, Sephiroth picked up a brush and started working on getting the night's tangles from the length.

"What do you want?"

"My, you certainly are grumpy in the mornings," Genesis said, arching an eyebrow.

Sephiroth sighed. "Angeal and you have been absent the past few weeks. I cannot imagine that you decided to show up without a reason."

Genesis moved from the doorway, his feet silent on the floor. Sephiroth kept an eye on him in the mirror, watching as he prowled around the room and its lack of anything personal outside of Masamune leaning against the far wall. "I would expect you to have much more than this – don't you have anything other than work in your life?"

"Why ask something you know the answer to?" Finishing brushing it out, Sephiroth twisted his hair into a braid and pinned it up. As fanatical as he was for personal hygiene, he never had time to wash his hair and let it dry every day, so when he didn't he would pin it out of his way. Warm fingers brushed the back of his exposed neck and Sephiroth felt his skin tremble. He looked into the mirror and met Genesis' gaze. The redhead was so close, almost leaning against him, one hand on his shoulder and the other resting around his throat.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need something more than work to understand why Angeal and I are upset at you?"

He almost laughed at those words? Did he ever. . ? He always envied their ties, no matter how loose they were compared to those of other people in SOLDIER. But to admit that, he knew that it would weaken him in front of people just as vicious as some of his enemies.

"Did you ever consider that I had no choice, and that Banora's fate was sealed the moment it was turned into a mission?"

"You always have a choice," Genesis replied, his fingers dropping away from his neck. "You are the hero."

"No. . . I'm not." Brushing past Genesis, Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder. "I'm a tool. Now if you will excuse me, I have to get ready for work."

"Be that as you may, but I will talk to you about this."

"Take a number," Sephiroth muttered and shut the bathroom door behind him. As an added precaution, he locked it as well.

Work was as dull and as routine as always, making Sephiroth feeling as if he was on some sort of punishment detail. Even his usual source of relief was off-limits for the day – Hojo had commandeered the Training Room for tests and Sephiroth did not feel like coming under the scientist's attention. He managed to dodge out of a meeting and reach his apartment before six, both of which were a miracle. But once he was there, he had no idea what to do with himself.

He thought about the note and if he would go or not. That took up about ten minutes of his time since he had already decided to go and get rid of the person and gain the book back. Simple plan but he had one huge problem with it: the great General Sephiroth cannot be seen at a place like the Gil. He would like to walk in there and blow everyone to bits, but no, he had an image to keep, especially since he did not want anyone nosing around his affairs so soon.

But someone had started nosing in his affairs. Not only that, they have arranged to meet him in a bar one step up from the slums only because of its location. Either the person was very brave, or very stupid, or probably both given what the brief note hinted at. Sephiroth growled and tugged at his hair before mentally throwing up his hands. He just needed to get over with it and then he would know who it was and then make steps to get rid of them.

Rooting around in his closet gave him an old First uniform and a baseball cap. He found a spare set of sunglasses he really didn't like shoved in the back of his top left desk drawer in his home office. He even had a pair of standard SOLDIER boots in his front hall closet, possibly left there because he never gotten around to getting rid of them. Holding them up, he peered into their dusty depths and wrinkled his nose, almost putting them back. Then he remembered what he needed them for, so he cleaned out the dust and set them at the foot of his bed.

It took over an hour to pull the disguise on. Even then he felt that if a person would just really look at him that they would know exactly who he was, but he was not about to spend even more time to hide who he was. Another ten minutes was spent justifying his actions – the book was important yes, but not that important. He looked at the mirror before snorting and turning away.

He walked to the bar, making sure that he wasn't being followed by making his path as random as he could. For once the ally crawls he did as a child proved useful in avoiding several small fights and the occasional trooper patrol. But soon he found himself outside the garish bar, a few tottering drunks stumbling out of the doors as he approached. Sephiroth wrinkled his nose at the smells and almost turned back but couldn't. A handful of people dressed like him had him surrounded.

"Hey, do I know you?" one of the men said, peering up from under the bill of a bright green cap. "Demolitions right?"

"Nah, it can't be," said another men, his hat proclaiming that he was top shit. "Demolitions would have charged straight ahead. I'm betting Logistics."

"Since when does Logistics go to the Gil? It's illogical!"

Sephiroth blinked, looking over the small crowd of SOLDIERs. There were a couple Second uniforms in the mix, but for the most part they were all under twenty-five, boisterous and arguing with all the zeal of friends that were set on working themselves into a good solid drunk.

"So what specialty are you?" the loudest member of the group asked, tugging down his glasses for a better view. Sephiroth realized with a start that his questioner was none other than Zack, whose usually spiked mess of hair was squashed under a cap advertising Touch-Me cures.

Sephiroth almost laughed. Instead, he shrugged and replied, "Materia."

There were a couple whistles and Zack latched onto his arm, tugging him towards the doors. "Staring all day at shiny stones is plain wrong, man," he said, looking over his shoulder at the other SOLDIERs. "You always forget what a real person looks like, right?"

"I still say it's an achievement. Not very people can make them work right," a Second chimed in, skipping to catch up. The other SOLDIERs fell into a semi-circle around them and Sephiroth fought off the sudden urge to break free and head out into the open.

"Hey! Just because I got a totally awesome result from combining a Thunder with a Restore right before it exploded doesn't mean that I failed!" Zack said, waving his free hand.

"Oh no, not you," the Second chuckled. "You never fail."

They pushed past the doors and Zack steered them to the bar. Sephiroth got the impression of a low ceiling thickly decorated with years of smoke, faded cheap wallpaper and equally cheap tables before he pushed into a stool and Zack perched on the one next to him. The rougher crowd around them silently pulled away, a few muttering under their breaths about uppity SOLDIERs but no one protested as they took the best seats in the house and started yammering for drinks.

"So what are you drinking today?" Zack asked, leaning close. Sephiroth glanced at the bottles sitting behind the bar and then listened to the yells of the SOLDIERs around them. He usually drank wine when he felt the need for alcohol but this place did not have anything he recognized.

"Whiskey," he said. Zack grinned and hollered at the bartender. A Second settled on to the stool next to him and removed his helmet, shaking out his hair and sighing.

"Seriously, I don't know why they give us those things. It's not like we need them," he said and held out his hand to Sephiroth. "Kunsel."

Sephiroth already had a name to introduce himself under in case he needed one. "Kadaj."

"Kadaj? What kind of name is that?" Zack asked, leaning against him. Sephiroth rolled his eyes and jabbed his elbow at the First's side.

"It comes from a providence of Wutai, under the Jagged banner," a smooth voice interjected into the their conversation. The SOLDIERs fell silent, two of the younger members jumping back as if they were avoiding acid. Tseng was still in his Turk uniform, his hair slicked back and his eyes unreadable. Sephiroth locked eyes with him and noticed the slight nod before he leaned against the bar and ordered four beers. The conversation stuttered to a halt as he waited, his expression carefully blank. Then picking up the four iced mugs, he nodded and left.

"Goddamn spooks," one of the SOLDIERs muttered. "Did you know they actually have plans on how to bring down SOLDIERs? I saw them run through the programs in the Training Room."

"Did you see the Sephiroth program they have?" Kunsel asked, reaching over for the peanuts. Sephiroth leaned back and snorted to himself. Both SOLDIERs looked over at him.

"They haven't perfected that program yet. The casualties alone would make the scenario impossible to work in a real emergency."

"But they can take down a regular SOLDIER easily."

"They are suppose to," he replied. "Why build a weapon if you can't make sure it can be destroyed?"

"Maybe someone should tell that to Scarlet," Zack replied, and got a few laughs. "Seriously! That woman just can't understand that weapons should have a weak spot!"

"Have you actually met her?" Kunsel asked, and the SOLDIERs started talking about women in power and if Scarlet's assets were really that real. Their drinks were served and Sephiroth took a sip of his whiskey, wrinkle his nose at the taste. He listened to them talk and then, when he was sure he could leave without anyone asking questions, he did so.

Tseng was sitting in the shadows with two other Turks and a vaguely familiar man. All four were drinking beer and when Sephiroth approached, the man took the pile of electronics he was tinkering with and shoved them off the table and into a large bag. All four looked at him expectantly and Sephiroth bit back a sigh as he grabbed a chair and took a seat. The two younger Turks glanced over at Tseng before getting up and leaving the group.

"I should have known that your department would be involved in this," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

Tseng held up his beer and arched an eyebrow. "Involved in what?"

"The book," Sephiroth said, staring straight at him.

"Actually," the man said, rummaging around in his bag. "This has nothing to do with the Turks."

Sephiroth turned towards him, a scathing reply on his tongue. It died in his throat as he suddenly realized who he was. Smiling, Reeve took out the photo album and set it down on the table amid pieces of wires and curled bits of metal.

"Imagine my surprise when I find this bit of nostalgia among the research books," Reeve said, fingers tapping lightly on the cover. "I wasn't sure if it was the Turks doing or someone else, but when I noticed that you always gravitate towards it since its appearance, I knew that it wasn't just mere coincidence."

"So he came to me with the book," Tseng said, taking a sip of his beer. "I too found it rather odd that such a book would resurface when before no one knew much concerning those early days of the SOLDIER projects. Unlike Reeve or yourself, I had access to a fair number of Turk files and found out an interesting bit of information concerning the Turk in several of the pictures."

"Vincent Valentine," Reeve said, flipping open the book to a page where Lucrecia and the Turk were standing together at a food stand, Lucrecia laughing and the Turk looking uncomfortable with something white stuck to his nose. "One of the few Turks who kept his full name when he became an agent."

"Vincent was the son of the scientist who trained Gast," Tseng said. "And he went missing shortly before Gast disappeared and Hojo took over the project."

"So?" Sephiroth said, trying to feign how interested he was in this information. Both Tseng and Reeve looked at him and he sighed, picking up his whiskey glass.

"You could have told me this without going through so much trouble," he added when it became apparent that the two men thought he was being particularly stupid.

"Most of these names have been purged from all the files save in a few key spots," Tseng said.

"It is as if they want to make sure no one knows exactly who was involved with the early process," Reeve said, fingers tapping the picture. "So either there is more to it than simple research into natural Mako."

"Or corruption of power AVALANCHE has spoken about goes back further than what we care for."

"And if that's the case, I do not like what it implies," Reeve said, frowning down at the book.

"Tseng!"

One of the younger Turks appeared through the crowd, his blond hair falling untidily about his face and a bruise forming on his cheek. "Reno got the SOLDIERs riled up!"

"Are you sure it was just him?" Tseng said, finishing off his beer. The blond flushed and stuck his lower lip out.

"All I did was grabbed the wrong glass!"

Reeve sigh and stuffed the book into his bag with the rest of his debris, swinging it on his shoulders. "And this is my cue to sneak out before things become interesting. We will need to talk later."

Sephiroth stood up. He wanted to demand that Reeve handed over the book and leave well enough alone, but that was when a redheaded Turk came flying through the air and smacked right into his chest, knocking him to the ground. Growling under his breath, he climbed to his feet and grabbed the Turk by his hair, jerking him upright. The Turk kicked him, and Sephiroth tightened his grip, giving him an extra shake.

"Stop. That."

The redhead looked up and froze, mouth hanging open and an impressive black eye forming. "Holy shit. You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

"You better put your hat back on," Tseng said at his elbow, holding it out to him. Sephiroth blinked for a moment and then let the Turk go, grabbing the hat and cramming it on his head. It left most of his hair hanging free, but at least he was trying to pretend that it didn't happen. Of course the young Turk didn't get the hint and kept on talking.

"What's the fucking General doing here in the middle of a fucking bar fight? It can't be a training exercise, cuz then I shoulda brought my fucking stick!"

"Reno."

He stopped, looked at Tseng and tried to adjust his torn shirt. "Sorry, sir."

"I've should've known," someone said and leaned against him. Sephiroth looked over and arched an eyebrow at Zack's wide smile. "I mean Kadaj? That's a stupid name, you know. So totally a fake one even."

From the corner of his eyes, he watched Tseng herd the two younger Turks together and out the door. There was no help there so he turned back to the group of SOLDIERs, going through possible excuses for why he was there and discarding them.

"I guess even Generals go out on stupid bets, ya know?" Zack continued, still talking even if he wasn't quite smiling as he did so. Sephiroth wondered exactly why Zack was giving him an easy out of this predicament with that statement.

"Obviously, although it seems my cover has been compromised," he replied. Zack's grin widen. "II now owe someone some very expensive wines."

Zack laughed and waved his hand at the other SOLDIERs. "So that means none of us are in trouble?"

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow, the effect ruined by his sunglasses, but the other SOLDIERs already looked spooked. He looked around at the tables over turned and the angry looking bartender with the split lip and then looked at Zack. He just grinned back.

"Do clean up this mess and pay for the damages," he said. "Return to headquarters when you are done and do make sure you do not destroy any more bars before you get there or I shall have to get mad."

He paused, locking eyes with Zack. "Am I clear?"

In response, Zack just slowly shook his head. "You know, for a minute there I had thought you were going to act – you know – human."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sephiroth replied and turned away. He heard the First's sigh right before he started talking fast at the bartender. Nodding to himself, he left the bar and headed for the ShinRa building. It seemed he had a lot to think about.

But first, he needed to buy Genesis some Banora wine.


End file.
